Parker and Cam shared a look. Nope, didn’tlike that one fucking bit. Parker dared to ask first. “Does this zone out have to do with Bri? Everyone saw you two leaving together in Dallas.”
“Just gave her a ride back to the hotel,” I said with a shrug, trying to keep an easy smile on my face. “The girl couldn’t handle her alcohol. Not about to let her take a cab in that state.”
The lie soured on my tongue. Lying to my teammates was the worst, but sharing personal details wasn’t my style. I’d had enough partners in the past share our bedroom stories for a quick payday, so I learned to keep a lot to myself. But even more—I didn’t want to share what had happened between Brianna and me. Just the idea of talking about it sullied the memories of watching her chest flush with pleasure as I pulsed inside her.
Cam studied my expression almost as if he sensed the lie. But before the guys said anything else, Melanie, our social media manager, burst onto the field. Benny dropped his head, muttering a string of curses under his breath. While the team might piss him off daily, no one got under Benny’s skin like Melanie. He hated all the publicity, a lingering effect of his past on the New York Rebels, and with Melanie as the face of our Public Relations department, the two were always at odds. Despite Weber’s surly streak, Melanie was relentless, bullying him into interviews, even though he refused to read the notes and cue cards she spent hours assembling. Still, beneath the animosity between them, there was also a begrudging respect, and Benny didn’t tolerate anyone else questioning Melanie’s directives.
We all paused, waiting to see who landed in the hot seat. Last year, she spent almost all her time fixing Jace’s messes, but now that he’d been demotedto the minors, Melanie had less to do. Still, a major part of her job was keeping our names clean, and that required a lot of hours. Only one reason would bring her down here during practice. Someone had fucked up, and she was going to give them hell for it. We all looked around, trying to figure out who it might be. No one wanted to be the guy she plucked off the field.
“Ramos,” she bellowed as she crossed her arms, her dark red nails clicking on her black, tailored jacket. “Come with me.”
Unease crept up my spine as she stared at me. Memories of the last few weeks raced through my mind, trying to figure out what had caught her eye.
“You better hurry the fuck up,” Parker said, his face a little greener than a couple minutes ago. “She looks pissed.”
“How can you tell?” I muttered as I stared at her.
Melanie had a thick skin and was notoriously hard to rattle, but she also radiateda don’t-fuck-with-meattitude. While she treated the players well, I’d never make the mistake of calling her friendly. She rarely smiled, only plastering on a fake one when the cameras came around. She was all business, and none of us made it very easy for her to do her job. I couldn’t imagine how much stress she was under, trying to control the narrative of an entire baseball team.
Each step weighed me down as I followed her into her office in the corporate suite upstairs. It was never good getting called up here. The halls were too sterile, too clean. Upstairs was the opposite of the clubhouse, where it was always loud and just a little chaotic. I followed Melanie into her office, waiting until she stepped around her desk to take a seat. Glancing around the space, unease crept up myspine, reminding me I was an invader. Photographs lined the walls, publicity stills taken over the past season. A large calendar took up an entire side of the office, dates marked for photoshoots and interviews Melanie had to coordinate with players.
As she stared back at me over her desk, my pulse ratcheted up in my chest. I tapped my fingers on my thighs, trying to displace some of my anxiety energy. “Okay, Mel. You gonna tell me why you pulled me off the field?”
She arched a brow at the nickname but said nothing, instead turning back toward her computer. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to manage people’s images in the time of social media and smart phones?” I opened my mouth to respond, but she continued. “Pretty fucking hard, especially with the younger guys, the ones who haven’t learned people are always watching.Always.And I thought you were smart enough to realize that too, Damien.”
My jaw clenched. “I am.”
“Hmm,” she sighed as she kept typing. She turned her computer screen toward me. “Then you want to tell me why someone sent me this video?”
My blood chilled as I recognized the familiar elevator, the one I’d taken almost every day when I stayed in Dallas. But unlike most of the time, I wasn’t alone. Instead, my hands were all over Brianna, toying with the hem of her dress. When my fingers slipped under her dress, I reached forward, slamming the mouse down to pause the frame.
“Shit,” I hissed as I dragged my hand over my face. “We didn’t know there were cameras.”
“No kidding,” Melanie muttered. “Oh, and it only gets better. There are photos of youwith the same girl on the street, getting cozy against your car.” She ripped her computer monitor back toward her. “What were you thinking, Damien?”
“I wasn’t,” I bit out. The images played back in my mind, and a sour taste sat on my tongue. It wasn’t the first time my personal life had been leaked to the media, but at least those partners were used to the attention. Brianna wasn’t. She was a normal person—a teacher, for fuck’s sake. “Please tell me you killed this before it got out.”
“Of course I did.” Melanie crossed her arms and leaned back. “At least, I killed the elevator video. The social media posts are out there, but there’s not too much traction. Lucky for you, some football player cheated on his model girlfriend, so you seem to be in the clear. Keep your head down for a day or two, and I’m sure it’ll go away with little attention.”
“Thank fuck.” My head dropped between my shoulders, relief sweeping over me. Another reason I stayed away from relationships. Most people couldn’t handle being in the public eye, especially when they weren’t used to it. Just the idea of Brianna being subjected to the court of public opinion made my fists tighten. “Thanks, Mel.”
“Do you need me to talk to the girl? Explain how to handle the attention?”
“No need,” I said. “She’s in the clear. You know my rule—one night only.”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “Of course you have a one night only rule. Aren’t you a little old to be using the fuck boy handbook?”
“Oh, come on, Mel. It’s not like that.”
Melanie crossed her arms, staring at me with an exasperated expression, the onethat spoke of my potential and how she thought I was wasting it. It was a familiar sight—it was also Marianna’s favorite expression. She shook her head, returning her attention to the computer. “I shouldn’t say anything, but upper management has been talking about your reputation.”
“My reputation?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Damien. It’s beneath you. You’re a legend on the field, but your off-field behavior has been attracting the wrong attention. And it’s getting noticed by decision makers.” Melanie leaned forward. “What do you want the rest of your career to look like, Damien?”
The question took me back. Retirement was a four-letter word in my mind. Although my body might want to slow down, I had no plans of hanging up my bat just yet. I shook my head. “I want to retire here—want to keep playing as a Hawk.” My throat tightened. “Are they talking about trading me?”
“No,” Melanie insisted. “At least, not yet. Right now, your stats and the fans’ support outweighs your reputation.” She sighed. “That being said, you are getting older. As you slow down, they might not be able to justify keeping you, especially with your high salary.” She leaned in closer, her gaze softening. “If that’s not enough of a reason to get your shit together, you should look at this as the team captain, a role model for the younger players. If they get caught in a scandal, they might not bounce back as easily as you.”
